Recollections of a Snake
by TheYoungestCrazySister
Summary: We all know what happened in 'The Sweet Serpent'. But what about the seven years Lucy Rivera spent in the Realm with Pitch? Nobody knows, of course, except The Sweet Serpent herself. But she's dead. But her diary, within it all of her memories, is in the hands of Jamie Bennett.
1. Prologue

**Hello, everyone! I'm TheYoungestCrazySister, author of 'The Sweet Serpent'. Because a fan asked, and because I'd been considering it as well, I've decided to write this 'drabble'. This is a series of 'deleted scenes', or chapters of Lucy's time in the Realm. She is ten to seventeen in this fic. I couldn't fit it all in the story because a) it would've taken too long and b) the story's point would've been missed. If you have not read 'The Sweet Serpent' first, I recommend you do. Though, even if you don't, I suppose you won't be completely in the dark.**

**Okay, enough of that! Onward, men! (And** **women)**

* * *

Prologue

Memories have a funny way of closing in on you without you realizing it. You can be completing your math homework before randomly recalling the way you studied with a friend a few years back. Or, you could be walking down a street and remembering the time you fell off a bicycle and scraped your knee.

Recollections do that; no matter how much time passes, they will always be a part of you and helped you become who you are today.

For better or for worst.

Jamie Bennett knew that fact better than most people.

He'd known one person - one girl - whose dark memories had transformed her completely.

The university student soughed and dropped his pen. He leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling. Then, he glanced at his nightstand drawer, the only one he kept locked. It seemed to be beckoning him, like Pandora's Box had coaxed the foolish young woman into getting a look at the world's hidden imperfections.

This, however, was slightly different. Jamie knew he wouldn't be looking at the memories of Melinda Black, the grinning lunatic who'd butchered his mother, tried to kill the guardians, and turned everything upside down.

He'd be peering into the memories of Lucy Rivera, the timid, horse-fearing, book-loving girl he used to know.

Somehow, that made it a hundred times more painful.

Jamie tried to keep those cursed memoirs under lock and key, but sometimes, it was a real struggle. They fought against the cement wall he'd built around them, and on occasion, one or two painful prods came slithering out from between the cracks.

Like now.

With a second sigh, Jamie reached into his upper drawer and pulled out a ring of key. He rose from his chair and walked towards his nightstand. Despite a part of him screaming to stop, Jamie shoved the tiny key into its padlock and turned. He knew that if he didn't take a quick glance at that journal every now and then, the desire to do so would only get worse.

The drawer opened, and Jamie extracted a battered old diary, the pages yellowing with age. As if on autopilot, the young man sat down on his bed and laid the diary in front of him. He stared at it for a long moment, thinking of all the secrets stored away within its crinkled pages.

Lucy had poured her heart and soul into that diary. Why? Because somehow, she'd sensed that the guardians would win. And she hadn't wanted her memories to be cast to the winds. She'd wanted a piece of her, no matter how small or insignificant, to remain.

Then...shouldn't it be okay to read it? Especially since the journal had been entrusted to him?

Taking a deep breath, Jamie opened the diary to the first page. When he did, he felt something tug at his heartstrings like a banjo.

He was looking at a photo that'd been taken nearly a decade ago, back in his innocent days. The snapshot showed three people standing on a snowy field, all of them grinning like clowns.

One was Jack Frost, the immortal teenager whom Jamie had been friends with until a year or so ago. He was white as ivory, with a wild mop of spikey, silver-colored hair. He was dressed in worn deerskin pants and a plain blue hoodie with frost decorating the collar. He was stooped over in order to be the same height as the two children, an arm wrapped around each of them.

One of the children was Jamie Bennett himself, at ten years old. Unlike his immortal friend, Jamie was dressed much more appropriately for winter: a hat, a coat, a scarf draped around his neck, and boots. He was short and skinny, with chocolate-brown hair and a freckled, grinning face. He was laughing as he tried to grab at the short hair of the other child in Jack's embrace.

Jamie bit his lip, but he didn't look away.

The third person in the photo was a girl. Like Jamie, she was about ten years old; however, her petite stature made her look a bit younger than that. Contrasting the white background, the girl was clothed in black: a black scarf, a black ankle-long skirt, and a black coat. Her skin was a rich olive color, and her russet hair was cut just below her jaw. Clutching Jack's arm with one hand, she was playfully pushing Jamie away with her other hand.

Lucy Rivera.

A remembrance flashed before Jamie's eyes: of his childhood friend, now eighteen years old, clad in a black cloak, a scaly bodysuit, and a serpent skull over her now-pale face.

"**_Kssh._**"

Jamie shuddered and dropped the journal. It landed at his feet with a silent _thud_. He soughed and rubbed his eyes, wishing he'd never pulled out the diary.

What was the point in reopening all of these old scars? Lucy was dead, had been for over a year. She wasn't coming back. Besides, when she'd been alive, she'd been anything but a good friend: her 'other side', or her hatred manifested into a separate person, had butchered his mother. She was the reason he and Sophie had lived in the local orphanage for a year.

So why remember all these painful memories?

Jamie wiped his eyes. Such horrid relivings...

Something red caught his eye. Jamie frowned and looked down. A card was sticking out from the pages. Curious, the young man knelt down and picked it up. Once he realized what the paper was, he nearly dropped it.  
It was a Christmas card he'd made Lucy shortly after she'd moved to Burgess. On the cover, Jamie had sloppily drawn North with a big sack of presents at his feet. Written above the guardian's head in bright red crayon was the word 'Welcome!'.

Just for old time's sake, Jamie read the card's interior. Like the outside, the message was scrawled in bright red crayon:

_Dear Lucy,_  
_Welcome to Burgess! I'm glad you're my neighbor now. I hope we can be friends. I'll introduce ya around, make ya feel right at home. You'll ESPECIALLY like my best friend, Jack Frost. He's, er...out of this world. You'll see what I mean! ;)_

_Love, Jamie Bennett_

Jamie smiled softly, and not just because of the message.

_'It's been years since I gave it to her.'_ He thought to himself, _'I never knew she'd kept it.'_

That was all it took for Jamie to feel guilty for what he'd just been thinking about his deceased friend.

Had Lucy really stayed...herself during her time in the Realm? Judging by what he'd just seen, Jamie thought so. It seems that, even though she'd lived with the enemy, Lucy hadn't been a total monster after all. No monster would hold onto a token of friendship like this.

He'd never even bothered to think about it in this light. But now...Jamie wanted to know.

He looked back down at the diary...

...and turned the first page.


	2. Chapter 1: The Nightingale's Song Part 1

Chapter 1: The Nightingale's Song Part 1  


_Date: November 3rd, 2004_

In the evening sky above Burgess, the Sandman appeared on a small, glittering cloud of gold sand. Just like every other night, the small man held his hands up to the heavens. From them flowed forth rivers of shining auric ribbons; as if animated, they swept through the evening air and crept towards the buildings. Some of them took on fantastic shapes, like manta rays or dinosaurs.

Other wisps did not transform until they reached a child's head, taking on the form of their deepest wishes. Children were either awakened by the surreal exhibition, or the golden sand brought their most delightful fantasies to life.

Each child, some way or another, was included in the fanfare.

Well, that is not a completely accurate statement. There was one child who was not admitted to the show. It was a shame, too; since this used to be her favorite part of the evening.

Now, she was far away from it all.

Underground.

_'One poor little nightingale...'_

If one were to head east from the pond, they would enter a dense city of evergreens, its inhabitants reaching for the stars.

_'Another night, crying for my love...'_

If one were to continue walking until his/her legs felt strained, he/she would come across a broken bed frame. Well, if one's heart was open for such sophistic things. If they'd already turned away from the follies of childhood, they would find no such bed frame.

_'Your laments for help echo through the night...'_

But if you did, it did not mean your trip was over just yet. The next step would be to gather one's bravery and, against all logic, leap down the hole like Wonderland's Alice.

_'And reach even my distant ears...'_

The fall down would be enough to ensure anyone a long stay at the hospital. It was, after all, several thousand feet below the Earth's surface. However, against all odds, the windows in this cave showed the night sky.

_'I wish I could help you, my sweet little nightingale...'_

Why? Because the king wanted them to.

And, of course, his apprentice did not object.

_'But I cannot unlock the doors of your cage...'_

She sat on one of the window's ledges, kicking her feet to a rhythm only she could comprehend. Her hair, which was only just past her jaw, billowed gently in the cold evening breeze.

On the surface, she looked like a normal child. The girl was just under five foot, with a somewhat gangly build; it was highlighted even more by the skin-tight black bodysuit that covered her from throat to feet. It was made of a warm material as well, so she did not have to bundle up against the November winds. The only things poking out were her heels, toes, and fingers.

The girl had a heart-shaped face, which was now gazing at the starry sky. Her eyes, which were large and the color of chestnuts, gleamed in the stars' light.

Light. That's what her name meant. Lucy.

The girl smiled softly at the sky and reached out, as though attempting to grab one of the twinkling stars. For some reason, she was feeling festive tonight. The night was partly cloudy, hiding the moon from sight. She'd finished her homework after two sleepless nights. And not being in Burgess helped some of those wounds close. So, by all means, a little celebration was called for.  
Lucy stretched her fingers, knowing fully well she could never catch a star but wanted to try anyway.

On her wrist, tightly fastened by a lock of ice, was a bracelet made of glass-like frost. Several charms hung from it, carrying with them happy memories from another life. As if on its own, a song escaped Lucy's lips:

_"Chestnuts roasting on an open fire._  
_Jack Frost nipping at your nose..."_

She giggled weakly, but the name killed the mirth she'd been harboring. As her smile died out like the flame off a birthday candle, the girl lowered her hand. An image flashed before her eyes: a pale, grinning boy with pearly hair. His icy-blue eyes shone brightly like polished aquamarines. That splinter in Lucy's heart twisted painfully.

Jack Frost.

The guardian of fun. The embodiment of winter. The protector of Burgess.

The killer of her parents.

Lucy blinked back tears, but it was too late. The crystal drops dribbled down her cheeks as she recalled that awful day only a few weeks ago.

Jack Frost, during one of his famous snow days, had accidentally frozen the town's roads. Lucy's parents had been driving on those roads...and had ended up skidding off the road and down the frozen hill.  
It hadn't been intentional, but what did it matter? Lucy's parents were still dead.

By the hand of her former best friend.

Lucy wiped her eyes angrily, wishing she could just get over it. This was how the cards had played out. Jack wasn't her friend anymore. How could they stay friends after what happened? And she was living here in the Realm now.

So why couldn't she bring herself to take this blasted bracelet off?

The darkness around her began to weaken, which caught her attention. The cold black stone she was sitting on was catching a light.

A pale light.

Lucy's blood turned to ice. _The moon!_

Like a bat out of hell, the girl jumped to her feet and scurried inside just as the moon peeked out from the dark cloud. The girl kept herself latched to the wall, panting slightly and staring at the faint moonbeams on the cave floor like they would spring up and eat her.

To anyone witnessing Lucy's behavior, it would've been queer and downright laughable. But there was a reason why she couldn't be seen by the moon: because of the man hidden within it.

Tsar Lunar. The most ancient guardian of them all, even more so than Lucy's mentor, Pitch Black. A millennea ago, during the Dark Ages, Pitch (better known as the Boogeyman) had spread fear like a sinster blanket. He'd been at his most powerful then, as fear had festered like the stench of decomposition. But then, the Man in the Moon picked the guardians of childhood to replace Pitch's fear with wonder, happy memories, hope, and sweet dreams.

MiM had basically done everything to ensure that Pitch be tossed aside like a broken television.

Which was why it was crucial that he did not know that Lucy was there.

Soft tunes interrupted her train of thought. The girl, no longer feeling afraid, extracted herself from the cave wall. She frowned quizzically as the gentle notes floated in the air like feathers. It took a second for Lucy to recognize the music playing: it was a piano.

How out of place it seemed in a place like this!

She'd never heard music in the several weeks she'd been here, not once. Pitch had even said on more than one occasion that he detested music.

Then, why was a piano playing?

With raised eyebrows, Lucy began to follow the music. Her footsteps were the only accompaniment to the sweet music, which grew louder with each movement Lucy made. She still got lost in this labyrinth-like place, but this wasn't a question of knowing where to go: simply to follow one's ears.

Soon, Lucy found herself in Pitch's sleeping quarters. It was adjacent to hers, though they were nowhere near as homey. Lucy had only been in these rooms twice, and it had been enough. The room was bare save for the king-sized bed and window; the thick black curtains were drawn most of the time, though, so Lucy often wondered what was the point of having a window there. The walls in this room were crowded with shelves containing thousands of books. Lucy would've loved to spend a day curled up in an armchair with one of them on her lap, but time wasn't always on her side.

The girl continued to follow the music. She walked past Pitch's room and into a smaller room she'd never seen before. It was hidden between two black rocks the size of U-boats, making it nearly impossible to spot. There was a crack in between the stones large enough for Pitch to squeeze through, so Lucy managed to slip inside without a hassle.

A part of her knew that this was one of the rooms she was not allowed to enter. Everything about it screamed 'don't come in, especially if you're 4'11, a girl, and go by the name Lucy'. But she couldn't help it; she was drawn to the music like iron to a magnet.

Lucy's chestnut eyes widened to the size of oranges. There was a piano in this room, and by the looks of it, it should've been in a museum. The piano looked like it'd been repaired multiple times: it was coated in chips and scratches, and the keys had yellowed with time. Those keys were emitting the prettiest notes Lucy had ever heard.

And playing those notes was none other than Pitch himself. His long, spidery hands the color of ash moved along the keys as though they were extentions of his being. He knew exactly what he was doing; it was a part of him. With his back to his apprentice, the Nightmare King sang softly. His tone was kind and gentle, as if he were speaking to a child. Lucy had never heard him speak so docily, and she found herself smiling as she listened to her mentor sing:

_'One poor little nightingale_  
_Another night, crying for my love_  
_Your laments for help echo through the night_  
_And reach even my distant ears.'_

There was a brief pause, and Lucy was shocked to see a single tear roll down Pitch's hollow cheek. It plopped on one of the keys, shining like a diamond. Smiling sadly to himself, he continued to sing:

_'I wish I could help you, my sweet little nightingale_  
_But I cannot unlock the doors of your cage_  
_For there are many voltures that would feast on your flesh_  
_You must stay hidden, fragile little creature.'_

Pitch's voice cracked slightly, but he continued.

_'You weep to be held in my hands once more_  
_But you know that it cannot be_  
_I'm sorry, my darling little nightingale_  
_But you are too dear to me_  
_To be released into this irrational world.'_

Lucy hiccuped slightly, trying to fight her tears. This song was so sad, yet so beautiful...it was enough to bring anyone on the brink of weeping. And the way her mentor was singing this song told her that he'd sung it many, many times before.

Then, without warning, Pitch stopped playing and set his hands on his knees. Lucy wanted to whine, but of course she remained silent. The Boogeyman sat in his seat, his head slightly bowed. After a few minutes of remisence, he spoke in a slightly sterner voice. "I know you're there, Lucy."

The girl felt her cheeks heat up like a sidewalk on a summer day. Gulping audibly, she stepped out of the shadows. Nervously, she walked towards her mentor, tucking some hair behind her ears as she did. Pitch didn't face her, but Lucy could see his scowl. It made her want to dig a hole in the ground, leap into it, and never come out.

"What, exactly, did you hear?" He asked in a dangerously placid voice.

"N-nothing much." Lucy replied, "Just something about a nightingale."

Pitch looked up sharply. Lucy was awestruck to see his amber eyes bloodshot and slightly puffy, but she made sure not to show her surprise. The Boogeyman searched her expression, trying to see if she was lying. He could feel her fear as though it were his: the fear of having been caught, and the fear in the punishment that would surely follow.  
Lucy moved nervously under his gaze. Finally, she said, "...It's really pretty."

Pitch frowned, blinking questioningly at her. Did she mean it? It seemed so, but still...no one had ever told him that before. Then again, he'd never played in front of anyone, not even his wife. He hadn't anticipated compliments at all, especially from his charge.

It was...nice, in a way.

But that didn't mean he'd let himself go soft over it. Putting on a no-nonsense facial expression, he nodded curtly at her. "Yes, well, thank you. But you should not have entered this room without permission."

Lucy bowed her head sheepishly, "Yes, sir."

Pitch waved a hand at the entrance, "Go to your quarters. I will come later to interrogate you on the Salem witch trials."

With another submissive nod, Lucy ran out of the room without looking back. Pitch watched her leave, listening to her footsteps grow fainter and fainter. When they'd vanished completely, Pitch dropped the charade. He sighed and rubbed his face like a wave against a stone. He felt so tired tonight, and not just because his strength was lessening by the year.

In general, he sometimes felt like a weight was crushing him. It had especially become noticeable when Lucy had moved in with him. As much as Pitch didn't want to admit it, the young girl reminded him of his daughter so much it was almost intimidating. They both loved books, had wavy hair, and even had the habit of playing with their hair when they were nervous/uncomfortable.

That was why he'd had to come here tonight. He'd needed to sing his song to his little nightingale.

Pitch reached into his robes and pulled out a heart-shaped locket made out of gold. As a melancholy smile played at the end of his lips, he clicked the pendant open. Inside was a sketch of a girl about Lucy's age. Like Pitch, she had a narrow, sharp face; however, her features were softer and more feminine. Her eyes were larger than Pitch's, and a deep, forest-green color. Her hair, as black as a cave's depths, was combed neatly away from her face.

Earth Pitchiner, now known as Mother Earth.

Another tear splashed on the centuries-old drawing. The remaining lyrics to the song Pitch had written hung into the air like a second, mournful moon.

_'And so I keep you in this jeweled cage_  
_To protect you from harm_  
_Especially from me.'_


	3. Chapter 2: The Nightingale's Song Part 2

Chapter 2: The Nightingale's Song Part 2  


"When did the Salem witch trials begin?"

"February, 1692."

"Good." Pitch nodded approvingly, unwittingly making Lucy beam with happiness and pride. He turned the page of the decade-old book, its yellowed pages crinkling. "And when did the trials end?"

"Not long after that," Lucy replied, "May, 1693."

"Good." The Boogeyman said again, "Now, tell me the tragedy's initial events." He looked up at her to make sure she didn't peek at her notes. His amber eyes were like a lion's, carefully watching his prey's every movement. The child scratched behind her ear, subconsciously moving under her mentor's eyes. After a few seconds of censorship, Lucy responded: "In 1692, Reverend Parris's daughter and niece began to have fits."

"What sort of fits?" Pitch asked, "Be specific."

Lucy nodded, "The girls screamed, threw things, made weird noises, crawled under furniture, and contorted themselves in funny positions." She suddenly snapped her fingers, "Oh! And they complained about being pinched and pricked."

Pitch skimmed through the paragraphs before nodding. She'd nailed every single fit. Then again, it was to be expected: she'd been in this room with the book for over two hours. "And these observations were made by whom?"

"The town's former minister, Deodat Lawson."

"Correct." Pitch shut the book closed, making a small cloud of dust snake in the air. Waving it away with a gray hand, he asked, "And how, pray, did the entire village panic over a couple of girls' bizarre behavior?"

"Because back then, science wasn't as advanced as it is now." Lucy answered, "Back then, religion was used to answer question. People believed that, since Man was made in God's image, any deformity meant a flaw in personality. So, when these girls started acting so oddly, people began to think that it was the Devil's work."

Pitch's stony mask cracked, giving way to the tiniest of smiles. Lucy wanted to punch the air in joy.

"Very good work. Not only did you read the text, but you understood it and were able to put it in your own words." Pitch stood up and stretched, as though he'd just woken up from a long cat-nap. "But I believe that's enough history for one day, don't you?"

"Yeah." Lucy nodded. She wanted to say that all that reading had given her a headache, but she thought better of it. Complaining about her studies wouldn't earn her any brownie points with her teacher. Instead, she smiled at a memory as she stood up, brushing off her bodysuit.

Pitch noticed his apprentice's simper and raised a skeptical, invisible brow. "What are you smiling about?"

"Huh?" Lucy looked at her mentor, a rose color staining her face. Playing with her short hair, she gave a nervous laugh. "Nothing, just..." She shrugged. She didn't voice the motive for her smile: her parents had often quizzed her the way Pitch had. It had been pleasant, but Lucy thought it was best not to sail those water yet. Thinking about her parents only made it more painful to know that they were gone.

Pitch stared at her for a second, waiting for a slightly more satisfying answer than the one she'd given him. When it didn't come, the Boogeyman shrugged his slim shoulders and exited the library. Lucy followed, her bare footsteps bouncing off the cool rock walls.

"Now, Lucy..." Pitch began without looking at the young girl. His voice reverberated through the adamant corridor, "...The sun has begun to set. In a matter of minutes, twilight will be here." He glanced down at her, his eyes twinkling like polished gold nuggets. "You know what that means, yes?"

Lucy nodded, "Yes. I know."

"Good." Pitch looked ahead once more, "I want you to bring along proper shoes and your mantle. If someone sees you, there'll be hell to pay."

Lucy swallowed restlessly. She knew very well what her tutor meant. Of course, he hadn't meant he would strike her or anything like that; Pitch was far from perfect, but he'd never beaten a child in his immortal life and he had no intention of starting.

No, the Boogeyman had been referring to the search that was still going on in Pennsylvania. Lucy had been missing for a few weeks, but the blue-coats were not calling off the search anytime soon. A brief program with Lucy's school photo and instructions to keep an eye out for her was aired each night. The girl's name could still be found on the newspaper, though thankfully the section dedicated to her disappearance was slowly shrinking. Posters dominated all of Burgess. Lucy wouldn't have been surprised if all of North America knew her face by now.

Which was why, each night when the pair went out, Lucy wore a ripped black cloak with a hood.

Even though it itched like hell.

With a wry grin on her heart-shaped face, Lucy saluted her mentor as she placed a hand on her door. "I'll be ready in a minute, boss."

"Don't call me that."

"Right." Lucy was inside her quarters a moment later, the door closed behind her.

The Nightmare King stared at the door, the corner of his mouth slightly raised. Shaking his head, he stepped into a shadow and was in the throne room a breath later. Ignoring the twinkling gold lights on the iron globe, the Boogeyman seated himself in his throne with a sigh. He rested his elbows on his knobbly knees, his thoughts swimming in his skull like a broth.

Having a kid here was so...unusual to say the least. At least he hadn't picked up some loud, annoying, snot-nosed little brat. No, he'd selected one of the best kids country had to offer.  
It might have seemed like an exaggeration, but Lucy was quiet, obedient, a diligent pupil, and she rarely spoke out of term. These were all the qualities Pitch valued in a child, and from what he'd seen they were hard to come by.

The only time he'd ever seen a child like this was...

Pitch's head lowered a fraction.

...was the last time he'd seen his daughter.

He chuckled to himself, though it was as sad as a caged bird's chirp. Little Eartha Pitchiner. How many years had passed since he'd actually spoken that name out loud? A hundred years? Two hundred, maybe?

Well, there was no need to keep the clock ticking any longer. Taking a deep breath, Pitch raised his head and spoke in a clear voice: "Eartha." The name hovered in the air like the scent of blooming flowers. Somehow, saying that name helped relieve the gloom, if only a little bit. It was like the blackness had slightly loosened its hold in this unique cavern.  
Pitch smiled sadly as he slowly rubbed his palms together. Even after life, his daughter gave life.

While he gave death.

The Nightmare King shuddered.

"Who's Eartha?"

Pitch nearly jumped out of his seat as he turned around. Lucy stood in the doorway, all bundled up in her shawl like the Grim Reaper. The only visible skin was her face, which was now scrunched up in confusion.

Pitch shook his head quickly, as if trying to rid himself of a fly. He stood up and clicked his fingers. "Never mind."

Lucy didn't like that reply. As Pitch's favored Night Mare, Onyx, flew to the ground, the girl protested, "But-"

"_I said,_" Pitch hissed, glaring down at Lucy, "_Never mind._"

Lucy's toes curled in her boots, and she fastened her lips shut. Nodding in grim conciliation, Pitch mounted the snorting beast and waited for Lucy to follow suit.

However, judging by the girl's bone-white face and rigid composure, it was going to take a while.

Pitch internally groaned.

* * *

Despite the rocky start (namely Lucy's absurd phobia of horses), the duo covered more ground in a single night than a cruise ship would in two weeks. They visited North, South, and Central America, two-thirds of China, and half of the Middle East.

They only stayed in a household for maybe a handful of minutes, leaving squirming children and shuddering adults in their wake. Well, Pitch did; his apprentice stood close-by, watching with the eyes of a hawk. Lucy found it sort of beautiful, the way the once-golden sand darkened to an impenetrable black.

Of course, Lucy felt guilt knot her stomach for turning people's dreams into nightmares, but she told herself that it was necessary. Instead of sugar-coating the world and its dangers like the guardians did, Pitch showed people the things they feared most. That way, they could learn what the problem was, confront it, and solve it.

Pitch's job may not have been the most pleasant occupation in existence, not for the bringer of nightmares or the receivers. But it helped serve the balance of human nature.

After all, how can courage exist without fear?

How can happiness exist without sadness?

Relief without pain?

Lucy repeated these words in her mind like a mantra for the rest of the night. Otherwise, she would've snapped from the guilt.

It was a load off Lucy's mind when the sky began to break out into colors. They were in a small European village whose name Lucy couldn't pronounce. It was surrounded by a dense forest, and brilliant colors peeked out from between the green giants.

As the Boogeyman placed the remaining Nightmare Sand into a small sack, the girl lingered on the rooftop they were standing on. She was mesmerized by the blinding colors. The sky above her head was forget-me-not blue, while the horizon in front of her was the bright red of holliberries. The sun was an enormous ball of saffron-yellow flames, staining the wispy clouds orange.

Colors like this did not exist in the Realm. And just for a second, Lucy was almost afraid to go back.

"Lucy!" Pitch called, "Come. We must head home before the sun comes up."

Speak of the devil.

Suppressing a sigh, Lucy nodded and reluctantly looked away from the approaching sun. As she walked (or, more accurately, dragged herself) towards the Boogeyman and his mare, the first few crimson beams kissed the earth.

One stray beacon landed on Pitch's back. Instantly, black smoke rose from the flesh, which hissed like bacon thrown in the heated pan.  
Lucy gasped and covered her mouth with her hands.

"Aagh!" The Nightmare King slapped a hand over his wound and leapt away from the gleam. He glared at the ray of light like it had personally tried to kill him.

Which, in a way, it had.

"A-are you alright?" Lucy asked in a trembling voice. Pitch started at the genuine concern in the little girl's voice. He looked down at her not with superiority, but with curiousity, like she was a code he had yet to decipher. Finally, he nodded slowly, "Yes. I'm fine. Thank you, child."

Lucy smiled a little, though her worry hadn't even dimmed. "Okay." She paused before adding, "Is that why you stay in the dark all the time?"

Pitch bit his lip, like he wanted to sigh but chose not to. Sadness flooded his eyes, like gold that had begun to rust. "Yes," He replied in a sullen voice, "I am a being of the dark, Lucy. My Fearlings and Night Mares are the same." He chuckled humorlessly, "But you, as your name proves, are a light."

Lucy blinked before smiling warmly at her mentor. "You've got light in you too, y'know."

Pitch frowned, "How so?"

"Well, you made really pretty music yesterday." Lucy explained shyly, "I don't think someone with a black heart could make something so nice."

Pitch only stared at her. But beneath his rocky exterior, something churned within him. This little girl had no idea how much she'd moved the centuries-old spirit. She really _was_ a light.

Kicking the dirt with her boot, Lucy stared at the ground as she asked, "...Is she the nightingale in your song?"

Pitch frowned, "Who?"

"Eartha." Lucy looked at him through her eyelashes, "Is she the nightingale?"

Pitch heaved a sigh. Lucy had quite the pinpoint memory. No surprise, considering how much information she'd absorbed in two hours.

Finally, the Nightmare King gave his answer. He mounted the horse and offered his hand to Lucy. She took it, and in one effortless pull he lifted her off the roof and onto the Night Mare. Lucy gasped and wrapped her skinny arms around Pitch's torso. That was when Pitch turned to the child and replied:

"I'll explain when we get home."


	4. Chapter 3: The Nightingale's Song Final

Chapter 3: The Nightingale's Song Final Part  


As Pitch wove the entire sad tale, Lucy stared at him with wide eyes. As he'd promised, the Boogeyman had explained himself the moment they had returned home. However, he only told the girl the superficial details; they were enough for Lucy to see the big picture, but not quite enough to comprehend the pain and sorrow laced within it.  
He'd seated Lucy in one of the library's armchairs before sitting down himself. He'd mentioned having a daughter once before to her, when he had first taken Lucy on one of his nightly expeditions.

But that had been the mere tip of the iceberg.

For the next hour or so, he painted the young girl's mind with the golden, bittersweet story of his past. He told her of how he'd once been Kozmotis Pitchiner, a famous and honored soldier who slayed Dream Pirates and Fearlings. He told her of how he'd lived in a glorious castle much like this one, but made from polished marble as white as the full moon.  
And finally, he told his apprentice of his daughter Eartha, the small child that would one day become Mother Nature. He told her of the months he'd been forced to leave home and communicate with his child via letters. He'd gotten so lonely, he'd composed a lullaby to sing to her when he _did_ have the luck of returning home. He'd sing that song to his daughter all night, his eyes drifting from the ivory keyboards to his daughter's glimmering eyes. The only problem was, with everything that had happened, Pitch had never gotten the chance to finish the song.

Lucy blinked, "The...Nightingale Song? Is that what you sang her?"

Pitch nodded, "Yes." He fell silent, feeling oddly emptied. He felt like a well that'd been drained of its stale, murky waters after decades of being forsaken. It was something of a relief to finally open up to someone, even if it was only a child. But there was no need to dish it all out; some memories were best left hidden.

Lucy nodded to show that she understood, and to Pitch's astonishment, her chestnut eyes watered. "That's such a sad story..." She trailed off before asking, "You really miss her a lot, don't you?"

She might as well have rammed a white-hot prong into Pitch's heart. It would have hurt less than being reminded of his loss. He almost wanted to snap at the child, to make her so frightened that she would never bring up the subject again. But Pitch managed to compose himself and nod, trying to keep his wild emotions in check.

"Very much so." He whispered softly, "Not a day goes by that I don't feel remorse."

Lucy tilted her head to the side like a bird. "For leaving your daughter?"

Pitch froze in his tracks. He hadn't been referring to _that_. He'd been addressing a sin he'd committed some time after he left his little girl for the last time.  
Right after he'd become Pitch Black.

Pitch actually shuddered, but the room's dimness shrouded it well. Lucy, taking her mentor's retisence for a confirmation, did something Pitch hadn't anticipated. With a soft look in her eyes that would suit a doe, she leaned forward and placed her hand over his. The warmth in her hand was like an oven to his clammy skin. But at the same time...it didn't feel so terrible, either.

"How does the song end?" Lucy asked after a long silence.

Pitch frowned. "Hmm?"

"You said you never finished it." Lucy stated, her chestnut eyes wide with curiosity, "What's the ending?"

"Ending?" Pitch swallowed. He didn't want to tell Lucy the truth. He didn't want to admit that, after his daughter became Mother Nature - with no memory that he was her father - he had left the song forever incomplete. This song was _theirs_: his and Eartha's. He simply couldn't finish it because he wanted to remember how things used to be. Completing it would turn Eartha into a chapter of his immortal life. He couldn't let that happen.

He smiled, though it was the most mournful simper in the world. "There isn't one. There can never be more."

Lucy's face fell, and that was when Pitch decided to pull himself - and his apprentice - out of these dark waters before they drowned. He straightened until his back resembled a board; clearing his throat, he asked, "Have you finished your math work?"

Luckily for Pitch, his attempt of distraction worked. Lucy stomped her foot lightly, "Aw, come on! I hate math!"

Pitch curved a brow. "I'll take that as a no, then." He gestured to the doorway, "Go to your room and do it. Call me when you're finished, and I'll go over it with you."

Lucy pouted, but she knew better than to argue. Her parents had been similar: whenever she'd delayed completing her schoolwork, even on a Friday, they would send her to her room to finish it. While Lucy had always thought it'd been a bit harsh, she'd reminded herself that both her parents valued diligence.  
A small crack chipped in her heart.

Those days...it had only been four or five months ago. So why did it feel like decades had passed since those normal, boring, happy times?

"Are you alright?" Pitch's voice, softer than it'd been before, interrupted her thoughts. Lucy frowned, then brought a hand to her face. When she pulled it away, she was horrified to see that her fingertips were wet.  
Her face crimsoned.  
"I..." She stood up, "I ha-have to go." She all but ran out of the library, her skinny legs a blur beneath her. Pitch watched her depart, a faintly concerned expression on his pale gray face.

Lucy didn't stop until she reached her room. Once she was inside, she threw herself on her bed and buried her face in her pillow. She didn't cry, but she satisfied the deep desire to burrow herself away.

She hated this. She hated being reduced to a miserable wreck at the mere thought of her parents. But sometimes, it was just too hard to dwell away from what had happened. Lucy could still see them so clearly, as though they were standing right in front of her. All she wanted was to be able to embrace them once more; smell her father's aftershave, feel her mother's silky blouse.

But she couldn't, no matter how much she wanted to.

And it was all because of that **_demon_**.

Lucy shrieked in her pillow and weakly punched her bedframe with her quivering fist. Eventually, the tsunami of emotions stilled into a tranquil ocean once more. Swallowing hard, Lucy forced herself to sit up and raked a hand through her russet hair. Oddly enough, she felt better than before, but she would welcome the day that this wouldn't happen anymore.

Lucy wondered whether Pitch had similar emotional downfalls like this. You'd think that a being as ancient as he would have long-since let go of such futile, painful recollections.

The girl shrugged and pulled her math workbook from under her large bed. She opened it to the correct page and began to work. As she did, she began to hum the lullaby to herself. She did so slowly, to savor the song as one would with a favored dish. She was halfway done with her work by the time the song neared its finale. It brought a smile to Lucy's lips as she hummed that sad little song, but when she reached the end, something occured to her.

It wasn't the end, not really.

Pitch had never finished it. So maybe, just maybe, he was suffering more than he was leading on.

Lucy brightened as an idea struck her. Dumping her workbook carelessly, she scurried to her desk, grabbed a pen and paper, and began to scrawl down some words.

* * *

The rest of the evening proceeded as any other.

Nearly an hour after her escape from the library, Lucy was done with her math. After hiding the paper she'd been writing on, she called Pitch. The Boogeyman appeared from the shadow of her closet and sat on her bed.  
Thanfully, Pitch didn't bring up Lucy's departure. Instead, he focused on the job at hand.

The pair went over the fifty problems from the first to the last. Pitch held Lucy's notebook in his long-fingered hands and nodded his head whenever a question had been answered correctly. But if Lucy had made a mistake (which was more often than not), her mentor showed her what she'd done incorrectly and made her redo it. Finally, after nearly two hours of solid work, the two were finally finished.

By that time, night had taken firm hold of the sky. Pitch practically jumped off Lucy's bed and clucked his tongue. A second later, Onyx appeared. After shrieking in fright, Lucy accepted her mentor's hand and climbed onto the shadowy beast. The trio took off into the night, spreading nightmares like ripples from a tossed stone. While neither of them said it, they were both grateful to distract themselves from their own tangled, painful emotions.

Eventually, the sky went from coal-black to Oxford blue, announcing that the sun was coming.

Pitch practically shuddered, a hand going to the wound he'd recieved the day before.

"Does it still hurt?"

The Boogeyman blinked, then looked down to meet Lucy's big curious eyes. He managed the tiniest of simpers as he nodded. "A bit, but nothing I won't survive."

Lucy chewed on her lip thoughtfully before asking, "Is there...anything I can do?"

Pitch's smile grew by half a centimeter. He wanted to stroke the girl's hair as a mean of affection and gratitude, but he restrained himself. Instead, he shook his head, "No, thank you." Effortlessly, he scooped her in his arms and seated her on the neighing horse. Then, he mounted the creature himself and tugged roughly at its reins. "Yaah!"  
Onyx whinnied and sped off into the sky. Lucy wrapped her thin arms around Pitch, howling like a werewolf the entire time.

* * *

Despite the intial shrieking, Lucy eventually relaxed on the ride home, as she always did. She was basically asleep by the time Onyx's hooves clattered against the Realm's stone floors. When Pitch noticed his apprentice, he rolled his eyes before dismounting the horse and picking the girl up once more. Gesturing to Onyx to go back to her stable, Pitch carried the child back to her room.

As he did, he looked down at her. She looked so innocent, so vulnerable, as all children do. As much as he would've loathed admitting it, Pitch knew that Lucy was pretty cute. If only she, and all other children, didn't have to grow up.

Pitch laid her on her large bed and pulled the the covers all the way up to her shoulders. Lucy let out a contented sigh as she curled up under the blankets, some hair falling in her eyes. Without even thinking, Pitch reached out to tuck it away before stopping. That was the sort of gesture a parent would do. He wasn't the girl's father; he was her teacher, her leader, her mentor. But he could never be a parent to her - or any other child for that manner.

He'd only been a parent once before. That had been enough.

Almost half-heartedly, he pulled his hand away and let it drop to his side.

Pitch griped and straightened to take his leave...when he noticed the corner of a paper sticking out of her closet. Arching a brow, he walked towards it and pulled the sheet out. When he read its contents, he blanched. He felt something tug at his heartstrings more powerfully than before.

Before he could register what was happening, his eyes grew glassy with tears. Pitch snapped out of it and wiped his eyes before the tears could spill forth. He would've laughed at himself if it weren't for the sleeping girl a few feet away. Here he was, the all-powerful Boogeyman, reduced to tears over a few rhythms!

But...they weren't half bad.

And the fact that Lucy had made the effort moved him even more.

He turned back to the child and, after a minute of pondering, knelt before the foot of her bed. In a voice as soft as a rabbit's fur, he began to sing. This wasn't simply dedicated to his daughter anymore. It was directed at Lucy, the human who had chosen to join him; a child who didn't cower in fright whenever he entered a room; someone who saw him in pain and had tried to ease his suffering.

And in that moment, as he sang these words, Pitch felt a peace he'd been missing for what felt like forever.

_"Poisoned tears shine brightly in the light of the moon_  
_But don't worry, we'll be together soon_  
_My sweet little nightingale, please wait for the day_  
_Where I'll unlock your doors, open my wings, and say_  
_'Let's go, my young! Let's take the sky!'_  
_Together we fly_  
_Forever_  
_And ever."_


	5. Chapter 4: Life's Fragility Part 1

**Hey, guys. Sorry for the wait; it was my 18th birthday 4 days ago, and we went to Venice to celebrate. But, here's an extra-long chapter to make up for it. Enjoy!**

* * *

Chapter 4: Life's Fragility Part 1  


Jamie sniggered as his fingers stroked the lullaby's words. It was pretty cute, how Lucy and Pitch had finished the song together.

Then again, he shouldn't have been surprised. Lucy had been like that, in those days. She'd enjoyed helping others, and when her friends had been upset, she had cried alongside them.

Of course, that'd been before...

Jamie shuddered, narrowly avoiding that memory's clutches. Swallowing audibly, he turned the page. It was better to continue reading before he could think back on the accident and blame Jack.

Not that Jamie could really hate his friend. It had been a horrible, unfortunate accident. Jack had never meant to harm anyone, especially not Lucy's parents. But Jamie couldn't help thinking, deep down, that if only Jack had been a bit more careful, none of this madness would have unfolded.

Lucy would never have turned into the Sweet Serpent.

But it hadn't happened overnight. For a while, even under the Boogeyman's roof, Lucy had retained her pure, innocent nature.

She may have been gone, but that innocence could still be found within these pages.

Smiling sadly, Jamie turned the page. When he did, he gasped, his eyes bulging with horror.

Taped on the paper was a picture of a dead baby crow, its eyes filmed over.

Written underneath the picture were three words, crudely scrawled in black crayon:

_'Caw, caw, caw.'_

* * *

_March 4th, 2004_

_Chicago, Illinois_

Today was a dusky day to say the least. Despite winter's departure, the air was still cool and crisp, turning everyone's cheeks and noses the bright red of sports cars. Angry storm clouds pulsed high above the city, growling menacing from time to time; and every so often, lightening halved the sky.  
Many people were rushing into their homes to take cover from the incoming storm. Those who couldn't leave soon enough had to make do with their umbrellas or hats.

Which was why people glimpsed curiously at the child walking down the sidewalk in nothing but a black bodysuit and a hooded black cloak. She recieved even odder looks when she practically skipped to the closest park, allowing the trees to shelter her from the stray raindrops. The girl strolled through the knee-long grasses, breathing in the clean, earthy smell of incoming rain.

Then, a familiar dark voice asked behind her:

"What is the capital of Nigeria?"

Lucy turned around and grinned at Pitch as she lowered her hood. Her shoulder-long russet hair billowed in the cold wind. "Abuja."

Pitch nodded, his face bearing no expression. "What is the capital of Jordan?"

"Amman."

Pitch arched an invisible brow. "Turkey?"

Lucy's grin widened. "Ankara."

Pitch cursed under his breath, but his mouth was turned up in a half-smile. "Drat. I thought I had you there."

Lucy stuck her tongue out, "Nope! I spent the whole week reading on the world's capital cities!"

"...Why?" Pitch drawled as he walked alongside his apprentice. The fog clung to his ebony robes as he moved. Lucy shrugged, "I read all the other books in English. It was either that or do homework." She visibly shuddered, "No more algebra, _please_."

Pitch chuckled, "All children must learn it, Lucy."

"But why?" Lucy held up her arms in perplexity. "I'm never gonna need to expand (x + y)!"

"Maybe not," Pitch replied, "But you must understand mathematics in order to create Nightmare Sand."

Lucy stopped walking, and her eyes gleamed with wonder. "Really?"

"Yes." Pitch nodded, "It is no walk in the park, believe me. But when the time comes, you will learn. And you will succeed."

"I guess." Lucy smiled warmly at her instructor, "I have the best teacher."

Pitch stopped, then smiled down at the child. His eyes had warmed up slightly, but it was nothing compared to the glow in his unbeating heart. He was pleased to see that, rather than cowering at the sight of his jagged teeth, Lucy returned his smile.

The wind hissed above their heads, bringing with it the chills of early evening. Lucy's teeth began to chatter as she hugged herself. Without even thinking, Pitch reached out and wrapped an arm around Lucy's thin shoulders. Even through the fabric, he could feel her cold skin. The child responded instantly, clinging to him. It felt...nice, having a child hug him like this. Pitch was briefly reminded of Eartha, but he brushed it off. "We should leave." He said, "Night is coming, and we must prepare for our expedition."

Lucy nodded, but just as Pitch was about to shadow-travel them back to the Realm, she gasped and darted out of his embrace. "Lucy!" He shouted after her, but the girl raced across the field. Then, she got down on her knees and reached into the thick grass.

_'What on earth...?'_

Pitch walked towards the child, who was hugging something to her chest. He knelt down next to her, "What is it?"

"A bird." Lucy looked at him with wide, glassy eyes. She held out her cupped hands. Inside them was a tiny black bird, no more than a couple of weeks old. It chirped piteously, weakly trying to climb out of Lucy's hands. The girl hugged the bird to her chest, "Can we keep him? Please?"

"What?" Pitch asked incredulously, "Lucy, it isn't ours to simply take. It belongs to the forest."

"But he'll die!"

"He'll die even if we take him in."

"Oh, come on, Pitch! Please?" Lucy asked, her eyes filling with tears. She cradled the bird in her arms, already attached to the small creature. Pitch didn't even want to think about the suffering she'd have to endure later. But maybe she had to learn her lesson the difficult way. He sighed, defeated. "Alright, we can keep him."

Lucy smiled despite the tears in her eyes. "Aw, Pitch..." She snuggled in the Boogeyman's chest, catching him off guard. "Thank you." Pitch looked startled, but after a moment he shyly patted the girl's head.

The moment was interrupted by a fluttering sound, audible despite the howling wind. It was loud noise, like some giant bird flapping its wings. Pitch was all too familiar with that sound.  
Without even thinking, the Nightmare King wrapped an arm around Lucy as he looked up. He blanched at the blur of green and blue in the sky.

He growled. "Toothiana."

Lucy gasped, but before she could do anything else, the hummingbird lady stopped flying and peered down at them. If it hadn't been for Lucy's black hood, she would have been spotted.

"Pitch?" Tooth called. Steel entered her voice, "What're you...?"

An arrow of black sand whizzed towards her. Tooth yelped and bolted out of the way, missing the pointed edge by a hair's width. Taking advantage of the queen fairy's distraction, Pitch tossed his bow aside and, making sure to keep Lucy hidden, raced towards the nearest tree's shadow.

An instant later, the pair was gone, leaving a bewildered Toothiana behind.

* * *

Pitch and Lucy stumbled into the Realm, panting and sweating through their clothes. Lucy ripped her cloak off, letting it slide to the smooth stone floor. She hardly noticed the black fabric; her attention was directed on the small bird in her hands. Pitch watched in amazement as the child cooed words at the bird and stroked its head lovingly. She reminded him of Eartha; she too had loved small animals.

An old wound in the Boogeyman's chest pulsed uncomfortably, but he did his best to ignore it.

When she was satisfied that the bird was in no imminent danger, Lucy looked up, "Why was the Tooth Fairy around? I thought she sent her assistants to do all the work."

Pitch shrugged, "I am uncertain. Perhaps she needed some fresh air. Ever since..." He growled lowly, but Lucy heeded it anyway, "...my defeat, she has been spending more time out in the open."

Lucy nodded, but her concerned expression refused to falter. "She didn't see me, did she?"

"No." Pitch shook his head, "But we mustn't push our luck. For the next few days, I don't want you leaving the Realm. Understood?"

"Yes." Lucy nodded, then reverted her gaze to the bird in her hands. It chirped, making the girl smile. "I'll be busy taking care of Koz anyway."

Pitch frowned. "Koz?"

"Short for 'Kozmotis'." Lucy explained, "That was your name back when you were a general, right?"

Pitch scratched his arm, avoiding the child's eyes. "Yes."

"Well, that's what I wanna call this little guy." She held up the bird, a gentle smile on her face. Pitch blinked, then returned the gesture. Then, he cleared his throat and waved his hand, "Very well." Black sand flew out of his robes and formed a small cage made of black iron. Lucy gasped, this time in amazement. Pitch tried to maintain a serious facade. "He's all yours. You will be responsible for feeding him and keeping his cage clean."

"I'll do my best!" Lucy placed a hand over her heart, her eyes glittering with joy. "I promise."

Pitch nodded, and as the child picked up the cage (with some difficulty) and brought it to her room, he whispered, "I'm sure that you will."


	6. Chapter 5: Life's Fragility Final Part

**Hey, guys. Sorry for the wait; it was my 18th birthday just over a week ago, and we went to Venice to celebrate. But, here's an extra-long chapter to make up for it. Enjoy!**

* * *

Chapter 5: Life's Fragility Final Part  


The next two days were a blur. The tiny black crow stayed in its iron cage, but feeding it was a real chore. Lucy had to pick Koz up with one hand and spoon-feed it mushed-up bird feed with the other. The first few times, Pitch had been forced to pry the bird's beak open in order for Lucy to shovel the food down its throat. It'd been messy, but at least the bird got the food it needed.

Lucy did her homework on bird nurturing; in the end, she decided to feed her new pet five times a day: thrice in the morning and twice in the evening before she and Pitch left.

For a while, Koz appeared to recover. The Realm echoed with his occasional, squeaky caws; strangely, the noises made the cave seem a bit more alive. Koz began to stand on his own and flew against the cage's bars, trying in vain to escape. Lucy watched with both concern and amusement as the bird banged against the iron bars. She asked Pitch if Koz could get injured, but the Boogeyman shrugged it off, saying that the small creature was more resilient than it looked.

Or so they thought.

On the third day, Lucy began to notice changes in her pet. Rather than emit his usual 'caw, caw, caw' sound, he stayed reticent and huddled in the corner of his cage. The girl frowned and tapped the bars of the cage, "Koz, you okay?"

Pitch entered the throne room via a shadow, hands folded behind his back. "Everything all right?" He asked coolly, as though he were discussing the weather with a stranger.

Lucy shook her head as she faced him. "I don't know," She answered, "Koz is acting funny."

Pitch arched a brow. "Funny how?"

Lucy shrugged her thin shoulders. "He's not singing, and he's barely moving."

Pitch went corpse-still, but he was a master at keeping a poker face. Never giving away how he really felt, he replied, "Perhaps Koz is simply tired. After all, he's been using up a lot of energy trying to fly."

Lucy pacified a bit at the Boogeyman's explanation. Pitch didn't want to tell her the truth; he could see how close she'd grown to the bird. If it died, it would break her heart.

And she'd been through enough as it was.

* * *

"Alright, Lucy. Give me the characteristics of a werewolf." Pitch instructed several hours later. The girl, showered and changed in a black T-shirt and matching shorts, thought for a moment before answering. "They change according to what custom we're talking about."

"Just describe the one you remember best."

"Right," Lucy nodded, "Uh, universally it's said that werewolves look like ordinary people, except for nights of the full moon. Once they see it, they no longer remember who they are. The animal takes over, and they'll only change back the next morning."

"Good." Pitch nodded, "And how does one become a werewolf?"

"Uh..." Lucy scratched her head, "By being bitten."

"Aside from that." Pitch replied with a hint of impatience. Lucy flushed and thought harder, "Uh, er..."

"'Uh, er' isn't an adequant reply." Pitch deadpanned. "What's the matter with you today? You've hardly been diligent today."

Lucy sighed, her shoulders drooping and her head lowering. "I'm sorry, Pitch. It's just, I'm worried about Koz."

Pitch resisted the desire to groan in exasperation. "Didn't I tell you that bird would be fine?"

"Well, yeah, but I'm still worried."

Pitch snapped the book closed, causing a fat plume of dust to rise into the air. "All right, you know what?" He stood up and gestured for Lucy to follow. The girl did, albeit doubtfully.  
"We are returning to the throne room," He stated as they stepped into the shadows, "And you will see for yourself that there is nothing to be worried about."

Lucy's lip became a thin line, and her chestnut eyes shifted from left to right.

When they reached the throne room an instant later, the pair immediately picked up a dark vibe. Lucy involuntarily clutched Pitch's cloak, her eyes widening. The room seemed colder than she last recalled, and there was an eerie stillness in the air; it was like the entire room was holding its breath.

Hesitantly, Lucy stepped into the room; the silence swallowed the sound of her bare feet on the stone floor. She glanced around, trying to remember exactly where she'd left Koz's cage. Anxiety was an irritating thing; when too much of it occupies your mind, it leaves little space for other information.

Finally, Lucy spotted Koz's small iron cage. Upon seeing it, the girl's heart sank like the Titanic cruise ship.

It was standing on the stone table, right where she'd left it.

But Koz wasn't moving.

"Oh, no..." Lucy broke into a run and was hunched over the cage a second later. She banged on the bars. "Koz? Koz!" She hit the bars again, "Move! C'mon, Koz, move!"

Pitch stood behind Lucy, peering in the cage. The small bird was lying on the velvet floor, its eyes already beginning to film over.

The Boogeyman closed his eyes.

Lucy began to cry; diamond tears rolled down her cheeks as she covered her face with her hands. Her wails grew louder by the minute, echoing through the dark Realm. Her knees gave way under her, but the girl hardly seemed to notice. She continued to weep as though her very heart had been crushed under a weight.

Pitch watched Lucy cry for several long moments before kneeling down and placing a hand on top of her head. He didn't offer any embraces or words of comfort; they were of little use in situations such as this.

He watched his ward open the cage door, extract the dead bird, and hug it to her chest like a teddy bear. The scene was like a pebble in his black, unbeating heart.

Finally, after fifteen minutes of crying, Lucy looked at her mentor with bloodshot eyes. "Wh-what..." She wiped the snot gushing out of her nose, "What did I do wrong?"

Pitch sighed and extracted a black laced handkerchief from his robes; he handed it to the child, who nodded in thanks. As Lucy blew her nose and wiped her eyes, Pitch said, "I told you that it would die anyway." Lucy opened her mouth to talk, but her mentor cut her off. "You did an excellent job at taking care of it, Lucy. You fed it, gave it water, and kept its cage impeccably clean. But," Now, it was Pitch's turn to shrug, "The bird fell out of its nest, child. It could've broken a bone or suffered from internal bleeding. Sometimes, creatures are simply not meant to survive."

Lucy stared at her teacher for a long, seemingly endless moment. Then, she sniffed and laid her head against his chest. Pitch gasped at the gesture, but in the end stroked the girl's russet hair. For a while they sat in silence; Pitch held Lucy, and Lucy held Koz. They didn't move until the shadows began to shrink, and pale gray sunlight began to illuminate the windows.

As she stroked the stiff bird's body, Lucy sniveled and handed Pitch his handkerchief back. Pitch held it with his index finger and his thumb, like it had a nasty bug he didn't want to catch. Lucy didn't notice as she stood up and wiped her eyes. They were as swollen and red as radishes, but she didn't care.

"I..." She swallowed hard, "I'm gonna bury him."

Pitch nodded. There was really nothing else that could be done. "Do you need help in burying a hole?"

Lucy shook her head. "No. He was my pet. I'll be the one to bury him."

Pitch nodded again, "Be quick about it. If the guardians see you..."

"I know." Lucy interrupted. "I won't take long." With that, she spun on her heel and ran out of the Realm, holding the bird against her chest. Once his pupil was out of sight, Pitch soughed and pinched the bridge of his nose. Even though his pain was nothing compared to Lucy's, the Nightmare King felt genuinely upset that the bird had died. That was why he hadn't wanted to take it in to begin with: he'd known that in most cases, birds that fall out of their nests die. He hadn't wanted to witness it.

The minutes ticked away, and finally Lucy showed up. Her arms and knees were covered in mud, and her shirt was streaked with grime. She looked a trifle paler and an ocean sadder, but at least her tears had stopped. Lucy looked at her mentor with bloodshot eyes before yawning. "I'm tired. Can I go to sleep?"

Pitch nodded, "Of course. But wash up first."

Lucy nodded and disappeared into one of the stone rooms. As she stepped into the bath tub a couple of moments later, Lucy glanced at her shorts' pockets. Inside was a snapshot she'd taken of Koz before burying him. It was a melancholic reminder, but Lucy didn't want to forget her first pet, either.

It was a thorned rose.

Half an hour later, Pitch was tucking Lucy in. He'd sort of gotten into the habit of doing it for a while now. He couldn't explain it, but he refused to think that he did it out of some long-forgotten paternal instinct. He told himself that he simply wanted to make sure that the child was in bed and not about to make a run for freedom.

At least, that's what he told himself.

As the Boogeyman drew the covers all the way up to Lucy's chin, the girl whispered, "Can I ask you something?"

Pitch nodded, "Yes. What is it?"

Lucy paused, then asked in a quiet voice, "...Why do creatures die?"

Pitch raised his see-through brows at the question. But after a moment, he smiled thinly. He could see that this event would stay with his apprentice for quite a while. Finally, he gave his answer: "To make life important."

Lucy smiled sadly, and her eyes closed. A moment later, her breathing grew steady. Pitch shook his head sadly at the girl, tucked her hair out of her face, and slinked into the shadows, leaving her alone.


End file.
